Finding Jaime

Chapter 96

Jaime POV
I opened my eyes. I felt like crap. In front of me was... a ceiling? A white ceiling. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and looked in that direction.

"Jaime?" It was Dad. But there were a lot of people around. Marvel, Saint, Bronx, Meagan, Andy, Joe and Patrick? I frowned. What were they all doing here?

And in saying that - where is here?

I tried to talk, but something was blocking me.

"Jaime!" Dad cried, standing up and looking into my eyes. "Hi!"

He'd been crying. I looked around the room. Everyone looked like they'd been crying. Why so sad?

Fatigue washed over me and I tried fight it, but I was just so tired. And cold.

"Just rest Jaime," I heard Dad say. "We'll be right here when you wake up."

I don't know how long I slept, but it was interrupted by people coming in, moving me around, checking my eyes, squeezing my arm, making a lot of noise. I groaned at the interruptions.

"Shh, shh, Jaime," I heard a voice say. It sounded like Meagan. "Just rest sweetheart. They're just changing you. Your fever finally broke, you're drenched. They're going to give you a sponge bath, okay?"

I hadn't even opened my eyes. How did she know I was awake? Maybe she didn't. Maybe she just thought I might be, so she was talking to me in case I could hear her? Whatever. It was soothing to listen to. I know I drifted back to sleep.

"Jaime?" I heard Marvel's voice. "You still asleepin'?"

"Marvel, shhhh," I heard. "Don't wake Jaime up."

"I not waked him up," I heard Marvel counter. I smiled. I think.

"Jaime? Did you just smile? Are you awake, sweetheart?"

I tried to open my eyes again. They were so heavy. I was still so tired.

"Hi there," Meagan said, getting into my line of vision. "How do you feel, sweetheart?"

I shrugged. I think. Meagan smiled.

"We were so worried. You were so, so sick. Well, let's get you better before we get into that, okay? You just rest, relax, recuperate. You're doing great, sweetheart."

I smiled and closed my eyes again. I was so, so tired.

"He opened his eyes a little while ago," I heard Meagan - wait. Mom. I call her Mom now. I asked to call her Mom and she said yes.

"Mom?" I croaked out. Whatever had been blocking my voice before was gone.

"Hi Jaime," Mom said. "I missed hearing you call me that."

I opened my eyes again. She was right beside me. But she had a different shirt on than just a minute ago.

"Your shirt? It was blue." I said.

"It was. Two days ago. You're still pretty sick and weak. You've been doing a lot of sleeping," she smiled at me.

"Oh," I said. I didn't feel as tired as I had been.

"Hi Jaime!" I heard a little voice and turned my head to see Dad coming in with Marvel, Saint and Bronx. Saint looked at me, tears came to his eyes and he ran over to me and started bawling on me. Dad and Mom looked a little stunned.

"Saint?" I said, pulling my arm around him.

"They told us you were gonna die. We thought you were gonna die," he wept. "Please don't, Jaime. Please don't die."

I hugged my littlest brother.

"I don't think I'm gonna die, Saint. I think I'm gonna be okay," I said.

Saint held on to me and cried for a while. Marvel crawled up on the other side of me and lay her head on my shoulder. She looked up at me and smiled.

"You no so sick no more," she smiled at me.

"No. I don't think I am," I smiled back at her.

Bronx came over and also hugged me.

"We were so scared, man," he said to me. "Meagan and Dad were a mess. Everyone was blubbering about you."

"But not you, huh?" I smirked at him.

"Nah. I was a mess, too," he admitted.

We sat and talked, the six of us, until there was a knock on my door.

Patrick, Joe and Andy came in the room.

"Hey!" Patrick said. "You look a little better than the last time we were here."

"I think I feel better than the last time you were here," I countered.

"I bet," Andy said, sitting on the bed beside Marvel. He pulled her into his lap and smiled at her. She smiled shyly back at the big guy.

"Jaime gonna be okay," Marvel said to Andy.

"Saint?" Joe asked, putting his hand on Saint's back. He turned his head a little bit.

"Hi Joe," he said.

"You alright?" He asked my brother.

"Yeah. I'm okay," Saint said. Joe smiled at him, looked at me and looked at Dad. Dad smiled and nodded. Saint would be okay. He was still processing a lot of complicated emotions I bet. I was, too.

Everyone stayed for a while and then Dad said I needed sleep, so everyone but him, left.

I wasn't feeling particularly tired but the quiet in the room made me realize I needed a break. I guess that's what Dad meant.

"Jaime?" He said.  He sounded like he had a question he didn't really want to ask.

"Yeah?" I said, my arm over my eyes.

"Do you remember what you asked me back at home the last time you were this sick?"

I thought about it.

"Yeah," I said, remembering feeling so low and sick I didn't think I could handle another illness like that. Apparently I had, though.

"Did you mean it? Would you have really preferred we let you go?"

"Back then? Yes. Now? No," I said.

"You're okay that we kept you fighting?"

I took my arm away from my eyes and I looked at Dad. He wasn't looking at me.

"Dad?" I said. He looked up at me.  His eyes were red. He looked like hell.

"Son?" He said.

"Thanks," I smiled. "Thanks for not letting me give up. Thanks for not giving up on me."

Dad got up, came over to me and pulled me into his arms.

"I would never give up on you, Jaime. Thanks for not giving up on us, on you. I love you, Son."

A tear escaped my eye.

"I love you too, Dad."